


The Dog Doesn't Die In This One

by pastelPLUNDER



Category: Gorillaz
Genre: Coming of Age, Criminal Ring, Drug Abuse, Gen, M/M, Murdoc isn't abusive in this one, PTSD flashbacks, Traveling, abusive families, first meeting AU, gorillaz au, just a dick, teen dad, teen parenthood, they are a family danmit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-30
Updated: 2018-08-30
Packaged: 2019-07-04 11:25:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15840285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pastelPLUNDER/pseuds/pastelPLUNDER
Summary: When Murdoc was 7, he found a cat in the gutter by his house during a storm. It was cold, sick, and halfway to death, didn't object to being picked up by a child at all.Sebastian would've objected to a pet in the house, so Murdoc kept Miss Kitty in his closet during school and let her roam his room afterwards.That situation lasted 2 days.





	The Dog Doesn't Die In This One

Itasca Ellipse Ultra

It’s too dark in the park to leave a baby.

There’s a lot of places you could start to dissect that sentence. Of course, the most pressing one that will obviously come into your mind: why is it so dark?

Murdoc glanced around the park one more time, reaching up one pale brown hand to tug his windbreaker closed a bit more. THe street lamps had been on for over an hour and every reasonable person had walked off to their happy home by now, leaving only the silent majority of scumbags. A small group of teens (upon closer inspection they may just be a collection of incredibly skinny adults) sits underneath the playpark. They don’t spare him a glance, though Murdoc makes sure to keep one eye on them the entire time, shifting uncomfortably in work brown dress shoes.

It’s not that the group is of any threat to him. It’s not even that it’s getting dark even, to be honest. It’s certainly not the fear of getting home late.

It’s that Sora is late. Frighteningly late.

Which is a problem. And not a plain and simple wait-it-out-because-you-have-no-choice problem (though he’s definitely going to be doing that). A problem because they always meet here at 3 PM and then again at 8 PM on the dot, Sora’s very punctual which means Murdoc must be too, and what the bloody fuck is he supposed to do now he doesn’t actually have any other way of contacting the man.

Is he hurt? His lifestyle might make it come as a non surprise, but he’s so high on the food chain, anyone laying a scratch on Sora would be nothing short of awe inspiring.

Has he decided not to come? This possibility is also dismissed immediately. Him not coming would eventually mean Murdoc has to go home, and Sora had made it clear under no uncertain terms was he to go home while on Sora’s time.

Had he forgotten him? Also unlikely. Though he was a skilled and very busy hitman, he was also a father. Murdoc assumed that was very important to him, he wouldn’t forget, he would care.

Tearing his eyes away from the group of not-teens, Murdoc inspected the baby carrier one more time.

Nobuko had woken up at some point during the 30 seconds he had taken since last looking at her. Her face scrunched up and relaxed periodically, dark eyes trained on his face like she was trying to figure out if _now_ was the best time to start crying. It wasn’t. Murdoc immediately set the carrier on the ground none too gently, and swooped her into his arms.

Newly filed and shortened fingernails rubbed soothing circles through her fluffy white blanket while a cool cheek was pressed to her much warmer one,brown meeting an almost golden tan. Cooing sounds from Murdoc accompanied the action, fine tuned over a period of a month, guaranteed to stop little Nobuko from kicking up a fuss.

In a moment every sign of a tantrum was gone, Nobuko grinning gummily at him, cherubic face peeking out of a Murdoc-made mess of blankets, eyes wide and smiling, long lashes brushing on her own skin.

Murdoc spared her another quick smile before glancing around once more. It’s almost midnight and there’s no way in Hell he can stay much longer, especially given how unlikely Sora is to show at this point. But that means going home and that also makes him nervous.

He refuses to sit on any one of the worn metal benches around the park, lights only reaching yellow beams far enough to illuminate the front of them, leaving his back wide open, not even shadows there to warn him of someone coming. The cement under his feet is unforgiving however on his worn down shoes though, and the combined weight of his and a 6 month old causes him to shift left and right. There’s wood chips on the ground from the playplace, some kind of cushioning for falling children that he doesn’t really get. Plastic slides are scratched and growing green, the city not really caring to do any kind of maintenance, knowing it’s not exactly being used by children. The grass is the only thing that looks good in this place, it’s lush and emerald green. It’s been raining a lot. He spares a glance up, luckily it doesn’t look like it will now. Takes a glance back at the bench, wondering about the hypothetical someone in the shadows.

One possibility remains unexplored. What if it’s a test? He could be being watched right now. Sora had told him he needed something to care about in this world, something to fight for. While remaining a careful amount detached. You could live without it, but maybe you’d rather not. So he’d been “given” Nobuko.

Maybe this was the “live without it/detached” part. The most likely answer was quickly turning into “it’s a test” after all. Maybe there was a whole bunch of people in the shadows, most likely henchmen doing footwork, he was supposed to leave the girl in the park and not give a shit (Nobuko shifted in his arms). There really was no reason for him to still be standing there, even if Sora couldn’t come there were likely dozens of people working for him that could be sent in his place. Maybe Sora needed to see a degree of ruthlessness from him that he by all means possessed.

His arms were getting tired.

And there was no guarantee he was even still being paid to do this.

He did kind of need to go to bed.

Murdoc picked up the pastel green, brown and grey carrier in one hand and used the other to jiggle the now happily squealing Nobuko, walking over to the now much more attractive park bench. Setting the carrier down first then giving Nobuko one final pat on the back and a rock, before setting her inside. After a moment's consideration, also buckling the thing (just felt safer), he finally removed his hands from both Nobuko and the carrier. Looked at her, seeing if that looked right.

A baby in a carrier, completely facing forward to see the scary new world, the only people in it a gang that was growing steadily in volume. Alone. On a park bench. With nothing but the light of a short reaching street lamp to protect her, no clue what could come out of the dark behind the park bench.

Takes a long step back and looks at her like that. Now she really looks alone. The angle of her carrier takes him out of her field of vision a lot more and her face transforms in confusion, the joy leaching out of it as if a vampire bit her. Her fists pause from their happy waving.

One long step back and he takes the carrier back up. Oh well. Leaving a baby at the park seems like a much bigger mistake than taking her to his house.

Murdoc strides out of the park in the direction of home, the light of street lamps leaving him, certainty and the sound of broken glass long behind him.

**Author's Note:**

> I'll bet I can update this daily.


End file.
